


In a Day

by Riadasti



Category: In a Day (2006), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Based on an indie film, Caitlin is having a terrible day, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Assault, Mild Language, Secrets, Slice of Life, You don't have to have seen it to enjoy the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riadasti/pseuds/Riadasti
Summary: Caitlin is having one of the worst days imaginable. She decides to spend it with Harrison, a nice stranger she met at a coffee shop. There's something strangely familiar about him, but she can't quite put her finger on it...
Relationships: Caitlin Snow/Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Comments: 16
Kudos: 14





	1. Butter priss

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically an alternate-universe using the storyline of a rare independent film, In A Day (2006) starring the ever-adorable Finlay Robertson. If you can get your hands on it (and you enjoy rather quirky, slice of life indie films), you might enjoy it. But you don't have to have seen the film to understand the story here. 
> 
> Switching between Caitlin and Harrison's POV throughout. The story takes place in a matter of one (or more) days. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Caitlin plastered a smile on her face. She was having one of those days where every customer seemed to have the most particular needs and requests. Right now, she had a guy basically talking to her like she was a toddler.

“Excuse me, I told you I wanted butter on _both_ pieces of bread.”

Caitlin gave the guy her usual customer-service smile. “I’m so sorry,” she said (certainly not feeing the least bit sorry). “Let me fix that for you.”

She took the sandwich back and began repairing her “mistake.”

“You missed a spot. Look, I like it all the way to the edge if you don’t mind.”

It was clear he thought Caitlin was a neanderthal who didn’t know how to do her job.

In the middle of stifling some rather un-serviceable thoughts, she made eye contact with a regular in line behind little-miss-butter-priss. It was the same guy who came almost every day, and he was arguably the nicest person she dealt with on a daily basis. Their interactions were brief, but he didn’t make a fuss and was always polite.

“I’ll have my usual,” he said.

Butter-priss gave Caitlin a pointed look, and she realized she hadn’t broken eye contact with the blue-eyed regular.

“Oh, sorry,” she corrected, having trouble focusing on her task. She had never noticed before how striking his eyes were behind his glasses. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she told him, and she gave Butter-priss a fake, plastered smile and returned his sandwich.

The ass didn’t even thank her as he stalked away.

The blue-eyed regular was standing there giving her a sympathetic look.

“Let me guess,” she said, letting her customer service mask down for a split second. “You want your usual?”

The side of his lip quirked into a smile. “No butter for me, thanks.”

Caitlin went about making his sandwich (egg salad on a baguette), turning away to toast it just the way he liked it.

The regular thanked her, gave her a rather nice smile, and then left.

She kept the remembrance of that smile with her through the rest of her day. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

The next day was…not a good day. In fact, it was likely one of the worst days on record.

She overslept, got ready in approximately five minutes (having to run back in when she realized she hadn’t brushed her hair or teeth and had forgotten deodorant). The bus was running ten minutes late, and after all the stress, she made it to the store only to find out the owner’s daughter had fallen and cut her lip.

“They said she needs stitches, but they’re not sure how many yet, and—” Ray broke off and wiped a hand across his forehead. He was clearly distraught.

She liked Ray. He was a good boss.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” he sighed, “just—take the day off. I’ll pay you, and—”

Someone knocked at the door, and Ray turned to shout, “We’re closed! _Closed_! God, does no one read these days?”

Caitlin caught sight of a figure that looked familiar, but Ray brought her back with a touch to her hand.

“I promise I’ll pay you for the full day.”

“Thanks, Ray,” she said, genuinely concerned. He appeared so out of sorts, and she truly wished she could help in some way.

So getting off of work (despite the painful circumstances) with pay _should_ have made her day a bit better.

Instead, only ten minutes later, she found herself wandering 7th Street in a daze with hot coffee burning down the back of her neck.

\--

Harrison found himself staring at a dismal selection of cold brew coffee. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for the drip coffee they offered in the corner (it looked as though no one had cleaned the carafes in years), and it smelled burnt.

A tall, familiar figure strode into the store. He recognized her immediately, and his face brightened. It was Caitlin--just the woman he had intended to see that morning.

“Hi,” he said.

She walked past him—she had an odd look on her face.

“Hey, don’t you work at the coffee shop?” he tried again, but she seemed to ignore him completely.

She reached her long arm up to grab a pack of paper towels and made her way to the register.

“That’s $3.50,” the store clerk said.

Caitlin pulled her wallet out of her bag and sifted absently through a few dollar bills stuffed in the crease.

“It-it was closed. Which is why I’m here buying this crap,” Harrison continued, laughing slightly and indicating the cold brew in his hand. “I’m not being disloyal or anything—”

She dropped a dollar bill and a handful of quarters on the counter and promptly left.

“Hey, that’s not enough!” The store clerk called after her. “Hey, lady!”

Harrison, flustered and confused, paid the difference and ran after her. He jogged around the corner and caught sight of her.

“Hi,” he said, trying to get her attention.

She kept walking, and she still looked dazed. She had ripped one of the paper towel rolls from its plastic bag and was wiping at the back of her neck.

He caught up to her and kept pace by her side. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi. You, uh, left that store a criminal.”

“What? What do you mean?” she said, her voice a bit breathless. She was frowning in earnest now, still wiping vigorously with the towels.

“You didn’t leave enough money,” he said.

She stopped and turned as if to run back to the store.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I paid the difference!” he called after her, and she finally turned back to him again, muttering a quick “Thanks,” before resuming her brisk walk.

She turned to him with a creased brow, as if suddenly realizing he was there. “You’re egg salad on baguette, no butter?”

Harrison let out a soft laugh. “Oh, so you do remember me,” he said.

He couldn’t help himself. He’d been trying for a while to…well, to talk to her. And now he had his chance but something was clearly wrong.

“Of course I remember you,” Caitlin said. “You come in every day.”

“I’m Harrison.”

“I’m Caitlin.”

“Yeah, I know your name,” he said, hoping he didn’t come across as creepy.

“Really? How?” She was staring at him with those deep brown eyes of hers, and he almost lost his nerve.

“That’s what your boss calls you,” he said. _Nice cover._

She sped up her pace imperceptibly. He was in decent shape, but he found himself running and out of breath. Caitlin was in front of him, and he noticed her neck was a deep shade of red—or it was stained with something. Regardless, the skin looked irritated and on the verge of swelling.

“You’re a fast walker, aren’t you?” He said, not ready to relinquish his time with her yet and curious about the stain. “You in a hurry to get away from me?”

“I’m just trying to get home, I guess,” she said, beginning to cross the street.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” she said, and she walked straight out into traffic. A driver slammed on his brakes and honked his horn.

Harrison shouted a quick apology and continued his pursuit.

“Looks like something’s on your neck, like someone threw coffee on you.” He continued to follow her.

He might appear to be chasing her, but he truly wasn't comfortable leaving her in this state. He asked if she needed help.

She was still scrubbing at the skin at the nape of her neck, and he could see a large swath of the dried liquid between her shoulder blades. She turned down his offer, her tone still oddly flat and with a hint of underlying panic. 

Since she turned down his help, he decided to try small talk.

“You’re not working today?”

“No,” she said.

“This your day off?”

“Not really.”

So she was just going to give him monosyllabic answers. Fair enough. He would at least try to help her if he could.

He asked for a paper towel, to which she kindly obliged. But when he reached behind her to try and wipe at the spot she had missed, she flew into fresh panic.

“What are you doing?” she said, spinning in a circle away from him.

He followed her steps, his arm still outstretched toward her shoulder blade. “Well, you have a bit of—whatever it is—in a hard to reach place.”

They were spinning in circles—and he laughed slightly at what must have been an interesting spectacle.

She continued to protest and stay just out of reach.

“I was just going to wipe it off,” he supplied, to which she finally stopped her frantic pace and heaved a frustrated sigh.

“Where is it?” she said, pointing to her back.

He showed her, and she dabbed at the spot. She suddenly stormed off again, tossing the used (and unused) roll of paper towels in a nearby trashcan.

He then asked a stupid question. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” she said, clearly not fine, and stopping after a few feet to turn and walk the other direction.

“Well, you seem a little distracted,” he said. It was a massive understatement. “And you’re walking in circles.”

“Yeah, well a man just threw a cup of hot coffee on me,” she said, stopping to stare at him as he shared her outrage.

He spluttered something unintelligible. He had assumed perhaps something had spilled, or it was an accident—but someone actually _threw_ it on her.

He repeated her statement again, and then said, “Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know!” She said, and Caitlin was off again—pacing up and down the sidewalk.

“Did this just happen? Where is he, this _person_?” he said, and Harrison felt his outrage growing.

He asked her who it was, and she had no idea. So a stranger had basically assaulted her for no good reason. He insisted she should report it, but she didn’t want to involve the police. Caitlin started walking away from him again, saying she had no idea where the man went and that she just wanted to go home.

“Where’s the bus stop?!” she cried out in frustration, staring around her but clearly not really observing her surroundings.

He pointed her in the right direction, and she was off like a rocket.

“Hold on,” he said, following after her. “I’m concerned about you, I’m concerned—”

Suddenly, two bicyclists collided with him, and he found himself tangled up on the ground between the spokes of one bike and the pedals of another.

She stopped and turned at the sound of the commotion, rushing to him and asking if he was alright. Even in her current state, she found the energy to ask after his own well being. Amazing.

Harrison rose to his feet, dusted himself off, and felt his neck burning with embarrassment.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, clearly not fine.

He had wanted this interaction to go so perfectly—so flawlessly, and now here he was pulling himself up from the ground, and she was standing there with coffee-burned skin and an expression of mingled panic and concern.

This could not have gone any worse.

He clenched his jaw. He would remedy this. He would.

“Can I take you to lunch?” Harrison said.

“ _What?!_ ” her voice echoed down the street. A few nearby pigeons took to flight.

_Well,_ _shit._


	2. Coffee tosser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin thinks her day can't get any worse. And then she meets the friendly stranger from the coffee shop, who seems determined to make her day better.

This man, this almost stranger, had just asked her to lunch.

Caitlin stared at him, appalled. She had just been assaulted by an unknown man, followed by this (well-meaning) stranger, and now—now he had the audacity to ask her to lunch? Was this really happening?

“I’d very much like to take you to lunch,” he repeated again, his eyes a bit wide and searching.

“Ugh, not you, too. I cannot deal with this.” Caitlin stared around her, still searching fruitlessly for the bus stop.

“Deal with what?”

“Another weird encounter!” she retorted.

He was taken aback, but he somehow still held his ground. “I’m serious, I’d really like to take you to lunch.”

She glanced around again, her mind whirling. “What, right _now_?”

“Yeah,” he said, and his mouth quirked upward in that smile again, the one from yesterday that had been her saving grace…

He was genuine. Even in her shocked, frazzled state she could see that he was.

“Well…it’s barely past breakfast time,” she said, finding herself scrambling for excuses.

“Breakfast, then,” he said. He was insistent but not pushy.

She faltered at this. “I’m—I’m not hungry.” Her thoughts darkened as she recalled her other ‘weird encounter’ of the morning. “All I can think about is finding the man and bashing his head in until there’s nothing left of his miniscule brain.”

He didn’t even balk at her sinister declaration.

“Sounds great,” he said. “We could discuss the various ways you could bash this man’s head in over a nice cup of peppermint tea. It’ll be relaxing. It’s probably what you need to do, to vent and relax.”

She considered this. Perhaps he was right. He was still a stranger, and she would still keep her very thick guard up around him, but…maybe. She lifted a hand and rubbed at the small scar on the side of her forehead--a nervous habit.

She tried a few other excuses, such as the coffee and the stained, smelly clothes she was in. He offered a valid solution, saying she could freshen up in the bathroom. He even offered her his jacket. This gave her pause.

“I should go,” she found herself saying, despite his kind offer.

His face fell slightly, but he put his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to push you into anything.” He swallowed. “I just thought it might be nice to decompress instead of fuming at home alone…assuming you don’t have a roommate or boyfriend or other kind of companion to commiserate with.” He closed his mouth with a snap, studying her with those intriguing eyes behind his lenses.

When she said nothing, he bent down to meet her at eye level. “A pet, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m alone.”

He nodded at this, biting back another half smile.

She tried another excuse, he countered by saying she could at least talk about what happened. Caitlin tried to brush it off.

“Well, how about this," he added, "I got fired from my job today because I hired a stripper for my boss’s birthday party, and it practically turned into a live porno show. We could compare stories,” he said.

She smirked, her mind momentarily distracted by this intriguing story. “You got fired for hiring a stripper?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” he said, “over tea for two?”

And that is how, fifteen minutes later, Caitlin found herself staring at her reflection in a public bathroom mirror.

She returned to the table, watching Harrison from behind as he finished a conversation on his phone and hung up. His hair was in one of those just-got-out-of-bed messy styles that he probably slaved over every morning. But she found she liked it.

She rounded to the other side of the table and seated herself, hoping the smell of the fresh scones and muffins would block the sour stench of her stained jacket.

Caitlin was surprised how easily they slipped into conversation. It didn’t feel like getting to know a stranger as much as it felt like they were simply catching up. He told her the horrors of the work party gone wrong, and she actually managed to smile at the recollection, as painful as it must have been to witness. She learned he worked (or used to work) at an advertising firm and he had to “make flat, unappetizing burgers look delicious, and certain aging rock stars look ten years younger.”

She liked his light-heartedness. And she liked how he didn't press her to talk about the events of the morning. He had just finished telling her about his own sister and how their relationship was the definition of “combustible.” He had apparently insulted her in some way and didn’t know how to remedy it.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, sipping his tea.

“I have a half-brother, but we don't speak.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” he said.

She shook her head, realizing she was being needlessly confusing. “Sorry, what I meant is he _can’t_ speak. He was in a pretty bad accident when he was younger. He was climbing a tree and lost his footing—and when he fell to the ground, he bit through his tongue.” Caitlin cleared her throat, hoping she wasn’t being too morbid. But it was the truth.

“Oh, my god,” he said.

“He was naturally teased about it growing up. They were quite merciless at school.”

Harrison nodded, and there was an odd look on his face. It was one of sympathy, but there was a restrained expression she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She might have imagined it, but he glanced at the scar near her temple.

She shook her head again. “Sorry, that’s depressing.”

“Not necessarily,” he said. He leaned forward and launched into a new topic of discussion. “Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Caitlin nodded, intrigued.

“Today’s my sister’s birthday and I was going to try and buy her some clothing. As you can imagine, I’m not very good at picking out women’s clothing.” He cleared his throat. “I know it's an odd request, but you’re about her size, and I was wondering if you’d come with me and help me out.”

She stared at him for a moment. This favor could easily turn into something nefarious. After all, as nice and as handsome as he was, he was still practically a stranger. Caitlin guessed that as long as it was some place public, and if she texted her best friend to keep her informed…maybe it would be all right.

“I—I think I could help you out with that,” she said. “What store are we going to?”

\--

Harrison couldn’t believe it had worked. Obviously _he_ knew he had no ill intent, but Caitlin was oddly trusting of him. He did notice she sent a few texts as they sat in the taxi, but there was a funny expression of anticipation on her face as they drove into one of the fancier clothing districts. He wondered absently if she had ever been able to shop here before.

He smiled, hoping the experience was a fun one for her.

He learned she was quite tight with her money—and if she worked at a coffee shop, it was no wonder why. She had balked at the taxi and now, sitting side by side on a couch in the private boutique, she stared down at the catalog with wide eyes.

“There aren’t any prices on the clothes,” she said in a hushed voice.

The store was dead quiet. The only other people were the staff members, keeping a polite distance from the pair.

“Don’t worry about that. What do you like?”

She frowned. It was the second time he’d seen a frown on her face in the same day, and he found it suited her, but not as much as her smile.

“Well, what colors does your sister like?” she said, thumbing through the pages.

“I’m not sure,” which was true.

“Does she wear more skirts or pants?”

“I don’t know, really,” he said. “She likes modern clothes, I think.”

She let out a soft laugh. “We all like modern clothes, Harrison.”

He smirked. He liked the way his name sounded coming from her. “Tell you what,” he said. “You pick out something you like and I’ll decide one way or another.”

It took a few moments of convincing, but she finally picked something she liked, and the staff were all too happy to comply (likely impatient with waiting on the indecisive pair).

Caitlin was whisked away and returned wearing a dark, tight-fitting dress that hung below her knees. It was flattering on her figure, but he knew his sister would probably not wear something like it. He sent her back with another selection.

Each time she came out, her face looked a bit brighter. At one point she even twirled for him, giving him a full view of the loose-fitting top and tight pants. He was glad she was enjoying herself—after all, that had been the plan all along.

Oh, and the gift for his sister, of course. He reminded himself to focus on the actual task at hand.

Caitlin returned wearing a pink sweater top and a black skirt with a matching pink flower on one side. It suited her very nicely, and he couldn’t hide the expression of surprise on his face.

“Do you like it?” he asked her.

“Very much,” she said, trying to suppress a grin. She had let her dark hair down, and the entire look was quite flattering.

He nodded his head. “Very well, I’ll buy that one for you and the purple top for my sister.”

The staff were please to comply—a decision was reached at last!—and they rushed about putting the unused clothes back and taking Harrison’s card to charge it.

Caitlin stared around her, suddenly bewildered. She approached him, and he saw that they had also outfitted her in a pair of low heels. She was already pretty, but she shone with confidence in this new look.

“No, no, no, you can’t buy this for me,” Caitlin said suddenly. “It’s really kind of you, but we came here to shop for your sister.”

He had his work cut out for him to convince her. “You really helped me out here and I want to buy that for you.” He met her uncertain gaze. “Besides, you don’t want to walk around all day in stained clothes. It looks questionable—especially with the _color_ the stains.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. “And before you say ‘no’ again, I insist.”

A small smile was tugging at her lips. She glanced down at herself, and it seemed his argument had finally won her over.

She walked up behind him and thanked him quietly while he gave the cashier his signature.

“You really helped me out, and I appreciate it,” he reiterated, hoping he could convince her to spend a bit more time with him. “And I was thinking, are you hungry?”

“A little,” she said.

“Without pushing anything, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

She stared at him, clearly bewildered. She stammered something unintelligible, and he was afraid she would turn him down.

Instead, she met his gaze and said, “Where?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what the handsome stranger, Harrison, has in store for them next...? 
> 
> Leave some feedback for me! <3


	3. The Psychic

Caitlin found herself in another cab. She made a comment about how they could have walked, and how it was really unnecessary, to which he gave his characteristic matter-of-fact responses to convince her otherwise. She was feeling a bit foolish all of a sudden. It had been one thing to enjoy parading around in designer clothes, but it was completely different for this man to _buy_ her an entire outfit on a whim. She hated expense, and she was feeling guilty about it. There was no way she would be able to pay him back. And she intended to.

“We could easily have gotten a bus or something,” she said.

“Do you have to be somewhere else?” he responded, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“No, I…” she faltered and took a deep breath. He obviously had money, and she might as well come out and say it. “It’s just—I can’t really afford cab fare right now.”

He laughed, “Well, I can! It’s my treat. We’re almost there anyway. And when we get to the restaurant, order whatever you like.”

“Absolutely not,” she insisted, feeling more and more embarrassed by the moment.

“Trust me, this restaurant is all about indulgence, not restraint. And the best part is for dessert, they have this delicious chocolate soufflé.”

She hesitated, her mouth already watering. “I love chocolate soufflé.”

He met her gaze. “Order anything.”

He was quite persuasive. Perhaps it was his good looks or easy charm, or maybe even that odd sensation that she already knew him. But he eventually won.

Which was how she found herself eating plate after plate of the most delectable dishes in a multi-course meal, accompanied by too many glasses of champagne to count. She leaned back in her seat and sighed heavily.

“I’m a pig, I know,” she said a bit shyly. She had even stolen a few bites from Harrison’s courses.

“Not at all,” he said kindly, pushing the last few bites of his braised chicken around on his plate.

“I love food,” Caitlin said, sipping at her third or fourth glass of champagne.

“I do, too,” he said, but she had just watched him send his dishes away with half-eaten items on them.

“You haven’t finished your meal, though,” she said.

He put a hand to his torso with a strained smile. “I’m trying to keep my weight down.”

“You don’t look like you have a problem,” Caitlin blurted out.

She paused but decided she stood by what she said. He looked fit—in fact, he looked a little thinner than he should.

“Exactly,” he said, averting his eyes. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

A burp escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth with a shocked expression. “Excuse me!”

He burst into laughter, and she found she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“It’s funny,” he said, “cause I thought you’d order the grilled fish instead of the whole rosemary chicken.”

He must have a good judge of character. She raised her eyebrows at him. “I love grilled fish, actually, but I thought I’d try something different.”

He smirked. “Call it an instinct, I guess.”

“What, that I liked grilled fish?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “If I tell you how I knew, will you promise not to judge me?”

She leaned forward, intrigued. “Yes, of course.”

He met her gaze with an expression so serious, she felt like laughing at him. Blame it on the alcohol.

“I'm a bit psychic,” he said.

Her head was buzzing from all the champagne, and she thought she misheard him. “So…do you take medication, or…?”

“No, that’s psychotic,” he said with a sardonic look. “I said psychic.”

She burst into laughter, louder than she normally would. Again, she did not drink very much. She apologized, but he dove into an explanation anyway, even though she knew what he meant.

“It’s like telling the future—well, not exactly like telling the future, but sort of picking up on things about people.”

Caitlin nodded, unsure where to go with this topic.

“There’s other things I know about you,” he said, sipping at his champagne and meeting her gaze.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What things?”

“Ask a question.” He leaned forward again.

She met him in the middle of the table. Her hand was wrapped loosely around the base of her champagne flute, and his opposite hand was nearby. Normally she would have pulled away, but now…she was still intrigued by this man.

“What’s my favorite color?”

He put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes. “Is it aqua blue?”

“Yes!”

He opened his eyes and grinned at her. “Ask me another question.”

She considered for a moment, feeling a bit silly. “Can I have more champagne?”

“Why, yes.” He chuckled and poured more into her glass. “Ask another question,” he repeated.

“Okay, what’s my favorite snack?”

“You mean like chips or cookies?”

“More specifically,” she said, “what do I eat every night before I go to bed?”

He leaned closer, setting the bottle back in its ice bucket beside the table. “This could be a trick question.”

She folded her arms, certain she had stumped him.

He seemed to study her for a moment and smirked. “You have two colors in your eyes.”

She fought back the sudden blush that wanted to creep up her neck. He was rather close.

Caitlin cleared her throat. “Answer the question.”

“Is it a grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Yes!” She was taken aback. “Are you really psychic? How did you know that?”

“It’s instinct.”

She challenged him again, but he wanted her to ask another question. She wanted to really put him on the spot.

“Alright.” She put a hand up to her temple. “Do you see that, the small scar here?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Do you mind if I move closer?”

Caitlin agreed, allowing him to move to her side of the booth. She wouldn’t normally be this bold ( _damn you, alcohol_ ), but soon he was sitting beside her and studying the small mark on her forehead.

“Oh, yes, I see it now.” His blue eyes studied it with great interest. “You’d like me to tell you how you got it?”

“Yes, please,” she said, breathing the slight scent of his aftershave. He had nicely shaped lips.

He smirked. “Well, that was obviously from your first and last ever golf lesson.”

She laughed. “No, guess again.”

“Well, it was…” his eyes wandered over her face and rested on the scar. “It was…well, it was an accident.”

Her heart raced. Was he going to guess?

“It was when you fell off your bicycle when you were eight years old.”

She felt a brief moment of triumph, despite the painful memories of what actually happened swirling in her head. “Wrong answer.”

“Well, how did you receive it?”

“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” she said, deciding to play coy instead of having to recount the awful day.

“That’s not fair,” he said, his face falling slightly.

“No,” she agreed, recalling her emotions after it happened. The cruelty, the embarrassment. The shame. “No, it’s not fair.”

Harrison stood and returned to his seat. She stared at the tabletop, lost in the memories of that day. They both fell silent, something large and impenetrable falling through the ease they had felt only moments prior.

The waiter returned, and she absently helped to gather the dirty dishes and silverware for him.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison said. He put his hand flat on the table in front of him. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

He breathed deeply. “Well, I have another confession. Take another sip,” and he topped off her glass with fresh bubbly. “You’ll need it for what I’m about to tell you.”

He folded his hands in front of him. “The reason I know so much about you, Caitlin, is not because I’m psychic. It’s because…I’m an angel.”

“Right…” she said, staring at him blankly. He might have lied about being psychic, and now this?

“And to prove it to you, I will do something magical. I will make something you desire at this moment appear on this table.” He spoke with slow deliberation, and she was buying every word. “And I will do it…right…now.”

She stared at the table, only to be interrupted by the waiter.

“And here is your dessert, and two spoons.” He set the steaming chocolate soufflé down in front of them and disappeared into the kitchen.

She bit back a smile, suddenly irritated with him.

“Very funny,” she said.

He laughed, appearing to be relieved that the tension had gone.

But she suddenly stood and excused herself from the table, taking refuge in the enclosed lobby just outside the hostess stand.

Caitlin pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed her best friend Iris.

“Tell me everything,” Iris said without preamble.

Caitlin filled her in on their day since she sent her last text. She told her she was feeling a bit…odd about the whole thing.

“You’re telling me he bought you tea, took you to a boutique and let you parade around in designer clothes, and now he’s just treated you to the _most_ lavish dinner—and you’re upset because…?”

“It’s just—don’t you think it’s all a bit odd? Like how he said he was psychic and somehow knew these things about me.”

“Maybe he’s a good guesser. Or maybe he has good instincts. Do you feel comfortable around him?”

Caitlin thought for a moment. “I mean, he’s a bit strange…but not in a bad way, I think. I don’t know, do you think I should just leave?”

“I honestly want you to be safe. But if you’re having a good time and you don’t feel threatened, just try and enjoy it I guess?”

She stared through the window at the part of Harrison’s face that she could see. He had a pinched expression on his face. She felt her stomach twist, remembering how he had sat so close to her just minutes ago.

“But this whole thing—” she began to protest.

“Caitlin,” Iris interrupted. “It sounds like you found a rich stranger to sweep you off your feet after a shitty morning. How often does this happen?”

Iris suddenly excused herself and spoke to someone on the other end.

“You have to go,” Caitlin said. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later.”

Iris came back to the phone and said, “You better!” before hanging up.

\--

Harrison stared down at his phone. He answered a few texts absently before gazing at the empty booth in front of him. Had he totally screwed this up? He had wanted to—well, he didn't quite know what his intent was, trying to play that game of the psychic. He was truly afraid she had seen right through him and wasn’t planning on coming back. So he’d be left alone, paying for a meal for two, and with a perfectly delicious, untouched soufflé on the table in front of him.

 _Damn it, Harrison_ , he chided himself.

Suddenly, he heard the tap of her new heels, and she seated herself. She looked a bit flushed, but overall not as furious as he thought she might have been, given the strange circumstances. They sat in silence for a few moments. The waiter came by and gave the check to Harrison, which he signed.

“Is there something wrong with the soufflé?” the waiter asked, reaching for the plate.

“No, we’re just stuffed,” Harrison offered, getting no response from Caitlin. When the waiter tried to take it away, Harrison asked to keep in on the table “just to look at,” he said.

When the waiter disappeared again, Caitlin said, “You’ve been very kind.”

He appraised her with a soft look, wondering how she was going to excuse herself from any more time with him.

“Too kind, in fact,” she continued, looking pained. “I’m just a bit drunk. That’s why I don’t drink, I just get too emotional.”

He pointed to the absolute chocolate perfection in front of him. “I'm dying here. I’ve been drooling here like an animal, and I haven’t touched it.”

This drew a laugh from her, and he was pleased, so he continued.

“You sure you don’t want to try a bite? Seriously, it’s better than sex.”

She raised one eyebrow at him, smirking. “That’s a _very_ high recommendation.” She seemed to take it as a challenge, holding out her hand to him. “Give me a spoon.”

He told her not to be modest and take the biggest bite possible. She complied, and was suddenly humming, her mouth too full to speak.

“You wuh-wuh,” she said, muffled around a massive bite of the chocolaty goodness.

“What?” he said, with a laugh.

“You were right!” She managed to say.

He dove into the delicacy with as much vigor as she did, and soon the dessert had disappeared.

She gave him a conspiratorial look, and he chuckled.

“You want another one, don’t you?”

Caitlin considered this for half a second before nodding her head.

And so they had a second soufflé, and they fought over who would get the first bite. All in all, their bellies crammed impossibly full, they left the restaurant feeling full and giddy.

As they walked down the lane, Harrison glanced sideways at her, hoping it had made up for his inconsiderate behavior before dessert. He knew he had likely stepped over the line.

She had a soft smile on her face. “I don’t know how to thank you, or even if I should, given that now I’m addicted to those chocolate soufflés. I’m gonna spend all my money coming down here and indulging, and I’ll turn into an even fatter pig than I already am!”

“No!” he said, knowing for a fact no one could ever call her a pig. She was slim, but she somehow had the largest appetite of a woman he’d ever seen. It was another thing he liked about her.

She stopped and faced him. “Thank you very, very much for lunch, and all this, um…right,” she trailed off, smiling at him.

“Do you feel better?” he said, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

“About what?”

“The asshole who threw coffee on you.”

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly elated. “I completely forgot! Mind you, that was probably all the champagne.”

They paused, and then both of them launched into awkward half-goodbyes.

“So, yeah, I’ll, uh…” he started.

“I’ve got to, um, but yeah, I’ll probably see you tomorrow, or whenever?” She said simultaneously.

“Yeah, but listen,” he chimed in, struck with a sudden idea. “What are you doing right now?”

“Just—going home.”

“I have to go see my sister and give her this,” he held up the boutique gift bag. “Would you mind coming along with me?”

Caitlin met his gaze with an uncertain smile. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, deciding he should tell her now before she found another excuse to say no. “I just—I don’t want to do this alone. And you’re here, and I’d really, really appreciate it if you could join me.”

He wished he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. He did have a plan, though this was a side mission he hadn’t prepared for. It was selfish of him to ask. But facing Nora alone was always a nightmare.

She hesitated.

“I don’t want to force you, I’d just…feel more comfortable. You’re really relaxing to me,” he said, feeling as though he were blurting out more than he should. (Damn that champagne).

She gave him an odd little smile. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“Yeah?”

“Sure!” She laughed.

He felt himself skip—actually skip—ahead of her on the sidewalk. Again, he blamed the alcohol.


	4. The Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin meets Harrison's sister...and it does not go well at all.

Caitlin found herself in a cab with him—again. Her phone buzzed and she quickly responded to Iris to let her know she was alright.

He pointed to advert on the back of the taxi driver’s seat. “I did that,” he said.

It was bold, colorful, and loud. “It’s nice,” she said, deciding she didn’t know much about advertising. She wasn’t exactly sure what product it was placing, either.

She turned and found he had leaned a little closer to her in the seat. He was smiling again.

Suddenly, he leaned back and said, “Oh, shit, I forgot!” He turned to the driver and said they needed to make a quick detour. “I have a hair appointment, and I nearly forgot.”

The buildings whizzed by, and then they were in another ritzy part of town. Ten minutes passed and Caitlin found herself sitting on a fashionable couch in an equally chic salon sipping a cappuccino. Harrison was getting a trim in a chair across the room, but she was secretly thankful for a quiet moment to sit and relax with her thoughts. It had certainly been an eventful day.

One of the stylists joined her on the couch and asked if she wanted another cappuccino. She declined and asked how much she owed him.

“It’s complimentary,” he said. After a pause, he continued. “Your friend wanted to know if you wanted anything done with your hair.”

She declined this as well.

The stylist persisted. “It doesn’t have to be cut, just a quick trim and a style.”

“No, thank you,” she said.

“He said he would pay for it.” The stylist leaned closer. “I’d take him up on that offer if I were you,” giving her limp hair an critical look.

She balked and then decided, to _hell_ with it, why not? Why shouldn’t she, after the day she’s had, enjoy a little pampering?

In a few minutes, the stylist (his name was Bobby or Billy or something) had her leaned back in the chair and was gently massaged and washing her hair. It was arguably the most relaxed she had felt all day. As he rinsed the sweet-smelling shampoo from her long, dark hair, she felt a few of her cares swirling away down the drain.

She could get used to this.

What she _couldn’t_ get used to was the way Billy/Bobby was tickling her scalp when he started trimming her hair. Caitlin didn’t know why, but she was overcome with a fit of the giggles.

Her stylist as polite, but apparently a bit annoyed at the way she kept collapsing into laughter the moment he brought the scissors up to her hair. Harrison was in the chair beside her, and he gave he a worried glance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing. “It’s all the champagne and chocolate soufflés.”

Billy/Bobby raised an eyebrow and gave Harrison an appraising look. She managed to compose herself and was eventually delighted with the outcome.

Back in yet another taxi cab, Harrison was staring at her rather pointedly from the opposite seat. He had his arm along the back of it. She felt his hand rather close to her shoulder as she stared at herself in her compact mirror.

“You aren’t going to kill me?” he asked.

She stared at her reflection. They had managed to bring some much-needed life to her limp, straight locks. Her hair fell past her shoulders in gentle waves.

“No,” she said, touching up her base makeup with a pleased expression.

“I think it looks great,” he said, still not taking his eyes off of her.

She thanked him and put away her mirror.

“Do you still want to come with me to my sister’s?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she said, finally meeting his gaze.

“Cool,” he said, and he glanced around suddenly. “Hey, where’s the other bag, the one with your old clothes in it?”

She stared at the floorboard, realizing her mistake. “I must have left it at the salon.”

Harrison leaned forward to tell the driver to turn around, but she stopped him.

“No, it’s really okay. I don’t need them. They were old work clothes. I’ll probably never wear them again, and besides—I like wearing this,” she said, indicating the new outfit he’d bought her. She felt a bit uneasy. “As long as it’s not too…?”

She left the question open-ended. He finished it by saying, “No, you look great,” with a soft smile.

Caitlin didn’t try to hide the smile that filled her own face as they drove on.

The taxi dropped them off, and he walked her up to a rather fashionable townhouse. The windows on the front door were a gorgeous stained glass.

He knocked on the door and leaned down to her ear. “This is the house I grew up in.”

She complimented it, meeting his gaze once or twice before the door was opened.

“Oh, hi,” a woman stared at them both with a startled gaze. She had long, beautiful red hair and shared a few similar features with Harrison.

She had the same straight nose and blue eyes, but she was shorter and much curvier than her younger brother.

“Nora, Caitlin, Caitlin, Nora,” he said, introducing the two women rapidly. Caitlin didn’t know him extremely well, but she could tell he was on edge suddenly.

“Oh,” was all Nora said before leading them into the house. “Joe!” she called up the stairs before turning and offering them a list of items to drink.

Caitlin turned each offer down, but Nora was having none of it.

“Well do you want water, at least?” there was a sharp edge to her voice, and Caitlin decided she should probably accept the offer.

“Joe!” She called up the stairs again, but there was no answer.

They were ushered into a sizeable den surrounded on all sides by various forms of artwork—paintings, sculptures, and prints.

“Happy birthday,” Harrison offered with a wan smile.

“Thanks,” Nora said, diving into the fridge to retrieve the drinks. “It’s been the worst fucking birthday I’ve ever had.”

Harrison didn’t say anything to this. He cleared his throat and handed her the gift bag.

“I, uh, bought you something.”

Nora pulled it out and ripped the tissue paper, staring blankly at the shirt in her hands. He watched her expectantly.

“Thanks,” she said, her tone flat and emotionless. The smile on her face was clearly forced.

“Do you like it?” he said, his knee bouncing on the couch beside Caitlin.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice now heavy with thinly veiled sarcasm. “I’ll find an occasion to wear it.”

“It’s an…all occasion piece of clothing. Besides,” he said with an equally forced smile. “I thought it was your favorite designer.”

“Not for a while,” she said, tucking the shirt back into the bag.

“S-so why is this a terrible birthday?” Harrison asked.

Caitlin sipped on her water. She watched their interactions with seeming disinterest, but Harrison was clearly cowed in the presence of his sister’s domineering personality.

Nora frowned at him. “Joe and I got into an argument tonight. We had plans tonight. He told me to fuck off.”

“What happened?” Harrison said, his knee still bouncing agitatedly.

Caitlin was tempted to reach out and still it with a touch of her hand—but she resisted.

“He’s completely selfish, is what happened. I called him a loser and he got his balls in a twist.”

Harrison sighed. “Why do you call him a loser?”

“He quit his job, bitch tits.”

“Don’t call me that,” Harrison said.

Caitlin decided to chime in. It was a topic of interest for her. She was looking to find a new job for herself, and it was also a way to rescue Harrison from more of her teasing.

“Why did he quit?” she asked.

Nora fixed her with a dry look. “He wants to dedicate himself to being an artist.” She talked about a painting in the corner of the room, stating that he was good, but it was stupid of him to quit his well-paying job of seven years to pursue his “art.”

“And the house isn’t even finished yet!” she continued. “You remember the mess it was in,” she said to Harrison. She then fixed him with a narrowed gaze. “You need a haircut.”

“I actually just had one before I came here.” His knee was bouncing in earnest. Caitlin reached over and put a hand on it to calm him.

“Seven years is a long time,” she said to Nora.

“What?” she said, fixing her penetrating gaze on Caitlin.

“T-to stay at one job, if you’re an artist,” she said, her tone fading in confidence.

“You see those, Cait?”

“Caitlin,” Harrison corrected.

“ _Caitlin_ ,” she said with asperity, pointing at a collection of small ceramic bowls on the mantel. “I made those. And those,” she pointed to a stack of hand-made candles. “And that vase, and I’ve been working the same amount of time as Joe—”

“It was longer, I think,” Harrison interjected.

She turned to him.

“Eight or nine years, wasn’t it?” He offered.

“Right, my point being—” she paused and leaned toward Harrison with a glint in her eye. “What do I say to you about interrupting?” She heaved a dramatic sigh and turned back to Caitlin. “My point is, I’ve been working a difficult job—some might call it grueling—taking care of small children, who drain the very life out of your every day, and do _I_ get to quit my job? Do I get to nurture _my_ talents? Do you know what I get?”

And she stood suddenly, walking to the opposite side of the room to grab a multicolored papier-mâché…thing. She held it out to them. It had eyes.

Harrison just stared at it blankly. Caitlin managed a small, “It’s…great,” before Nora continued her tirade.

“Yeah, whatever it is—an ugly trinket made by a classroom of ugly little spoiled rotten nasty little children.” She stalked away and threw the object onto a nearby shelf.

Harrison glanced at Caitlin. There was a clear apology in his eyes. She squeezed her hand on his knee before drawing back into the sofa with her hands cupping her untouched glass of water.

Nora sighed, resuming her seat across from them. “The weird part is, I’d like to have a baby someday. I think I’d make a good mother.”

Before the irony of these words could truly sink in, Caitlin heard a door slam at the top of the stairs.

“Joe,” Nora said. When she received no response, she shouted his name again, glanced a the pair of them, and then stormed up the stairs.

They could hear her shouting at her husband, calling him a “fucking killjoy” and telling him to come down and meet Harrison’s girlfriend.

Caitlin let her eyes drift up to the ceiling, unable to meet Harrison’s gaze.

After a while, Nora returned with a cigarette in her mouth. She lit it, sat back down, and grumbled about Joe, saying he would come down after he stopped being stubborn.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Caitlin heard herself say.

“Uh, no,” Harrison said, giving his older sister a strained smile.

“No?” Nora asked, clearly disinterested. “You do look familiar, though.”

Caitlin frowned. It was the same odd sensation again that she’d had all day with Harrison. There _was_ something vaguely familiar about Nora, too.

Harrison suddenly chimed in, starting to stammer. “Where were—wh—where were—wuh—”

“Slow down,” Nora said, giving him a vicious smile. “Articulate, then talk,” giving him the same condescending tone of voice she might give a child.

“I know how to speak, Nora!” Harrison shouted.

Caitlin was taken aback by this outburst.

“He’s sensitive because he has a stutter,” Nora said to Caitlin.

“I don’t have a stutter, you know that.” he persisted.

“Wh-wh-wh-whatever he says,” Nora smirked at Caitlin and then fixed Harrison with a cold stare. “What were you trying to ask me?”

Harrison breathed deeply. Caitlin was tempted to put her hand on his knee again. Instead, she looked away. _Now I know why he didn’t want to come alone._

“Where were you two going tonight?” he said.

Nora was in the middle of responding when footsteps were heard on the stairs. A man poked his head into the room, greeted Caitlin and Harrison, and then glared at his wife before disappearing.

“He’s doing his rebellion act. He’ll be back. And he’ll be _back_ at his _job_ ,” she said.

She gave Harrison her glass and asked him to fill it for her, and add some vodka.

Harrison disappeared, and Caitlin felt the wind completely fall from her sails as he departed. She did _not_ want to be alone with this woman.

She tried small talk, but this was still painful and full of subtext.

“So how do you and Harrison know each other?” Nora asked.

“He’s a customer, a regular customer.”

“Come again?” Nora said, a half-smile on her face.

“I work at a coffee shop,” Caitlin corrected. It was clear Nora had the wrong idea.

“Oh,” she said, her interest deflating. “And you and Harrison are just…friends?”

“Well, yes,” Caitlin said.

“Oh, okay. I was going to say, you’re not normally his type. I don’t mean that rudely, it’s just you’re not normally what he has a relationship with, when he has one—which has been rare.” She cleared her throat. “He’s insecure because he was fat once.”

Caitlin stared at her.

“He’s changed a lot,” Nora continued. “But I’m not so certain it’s for the better.”

Caitlin had no idea what to respond to that, but thankfully she didn’t have to. Harrison returned holding a cup of spiked orange juice, which he gave to Nora with a decided frown.

Nora began questioning how they met, and even asked Caitlin what made a good sandwich. She took a sip of the concoction Harrison had made and cried out in the middle of Caitlin’s response.

“What did you do to this? It tastes sour!” She fixed Harrison with a murderous gaze.

He demurred, but she insisted, stating he purposefully used the carton that was out of date.

“You and Joe are trying to ruin my birthday. You’ve always found ways to make things terrible for me!”

“You’re the one who kept the other carton in the fridge!” He shouted back.

This brought an end to their visit. Well, only after Nora insisted she was fine (while scowling) and manipulated an apology out of Harrison.

He stated that he and Caitlin had somewhere to be, and they quickly excused themselves. Caitlin was all too happy to oblige, hoping to never set foot in that home ever again. 

She and Harrison stepped onto the sidewalk, and both of them visibly relaxed in the fresh air outside. Caitlin had an odd temptation to grab his hand. She resisted (with effort).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so long! Didn't even have time to put it into Harrison's point of view. But don't worry, I'm getting the next chapter ready for you. 
> 
> Thanks for making it through a somewhat painful chapter! More to come, I promise.


	5. Piggyback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin finally tells Harrison the story of her morning adventure with the coffee tosser. He lets on about a secret that he will tell her, but only when she's ready to go home.

Harrison ducked into a small path off of the sidewalk, nearly losing Caitlin as she kept walking. He called after her, and she turned around to find him standing in a small clearing of tall bushes.

“I want to show you something,” he said, holding a hand out to her.

She stared at him for a millisecond before accepting his hand. There was an odd little smirk on her face. He glanced down and realized the path was quite muddy. It would likely ruin the new shoes she was wearing.

“Do you want me to—ah—carry you?”

Caitlin was visibly taken aback. “Do we have to go this way?”

“It’s worth it, trust me,” he said.

“Well,” she considered for a moment. “Alright, turn around.”

He obliged, and suddenly she had jumped onto his back. He laughed—he hadn’t expected her to agree to this, and he wrapped his arms gingerly around her knees. After a few steps, she let her chin rest on his shoulder. Her hair was tickling the back of his neck, and when she spoke, her voice buzzed against his shoulder blade.

“Can I make a confession?” she asked.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, navigating around a sizable mud puddle and readjusting his hold on her legs.

“Well, it’s more like an admission about how I feel about your sister.”

He glanced left and right—he swore he knew his way through here. Perhaps her proximity was throwing off his sense of direction.

“I can probably guess what you’re gonna say, but go on,” he said.

“Was she having a bad day, or is she always like that?”

“She’s always having a bad day,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t like her either.”

“Then why do you…?” she trailed off.

“Why do I still see her? Well, I understand her. I understand her frustrations. I always hope that one day she’ll be nice to me without trying.”

“Well,” Caitlin tightened her grip around his neck slightly as he stepped over a few tall roots. “What I don’t understand is, why is she so terrible to you?”

“I don’t know. She’s always been terrible to me. Always been—”

“A bully,” Caitlin finished for him.

This caused him to pause. He turned his head to catch sight of her from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” he said, resuming his pace.

“I understand how that feels.”

His jaw tightened unconsciously. He wanted to tell her everything right then and there—but he couldn’t. They still had a bit more forest to walk through. And frankly, he wasn’t ready to put an end to their day, which it most decidedly would.

\--

“Can you read that?” Harrison pointed down at the bench they were sitting on.

She was grateful to be seated again. Much as she had enjoyed her brief piggyback ride through the woods, this was a much more comfortable situation.

Caitlin ran her fingers over the words carved into the wood. “My…sister…ducks…large elephant socks?”

He chuckled. “Close. ‘My sister sucks large elephant cocks.’” He mimed the last word by pretending to put something massive in his mouth.

She burst into laughter.

“I wrote that,” he said, with a childish grin of pride.

“Recently…?”

“No,” he laughed. “Years ago. This is where I used to come to think, to be alone.”

“To start your career as a graphic designer, on park benches?” She smirked at him.

He nodded. She stared at his downturned face. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, about his sister, his upbringing…but she asked the one burning question that had been bothering her since he asked her to get breakfast.

“Harrison, why have you been so kind to me today?”

He leaned back and studied her, his expression hidden by the glare on his glasses. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she corrected. “I’m not ungrateful it’s just…really not what I’m used to.”

“Well,” he was straddling the bench and he scooted a bit closer to her. “I like you, and I’m sure you deserve a great day. I mean, after the coffee incident, do I need a reason?”

She glanced away and simply said, “No.”

“It’s not out of the ordinary for me, I wouldn’t think, the way I’ve been treating you,” his face was so earnest as he leaned closer.

She studied him, baffled by this man. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, rising from the bench and resuming their walk. “Should I have been treating you differently?”

“No, I just thought…I don’t know, maybe…”

“Okay,” he said, pocketing his hands. “Okay, okay. You caught me.”

“At what?” she said, staring at his profile and trying to anticipate by his expression if what he was going to say would be another series of harmless fibs like at the restaurant, or the honest truth.

“I have another confession to make.”

“Wait,” she said, holding a hand up to him. “Before you tell me you’re an angel or Elvis or something, can I just tell you why that man threw coffee at me this morning?”

She decided since he hadn’t asked, not once, he had at least earned the truth from her about the incident that preceded their breakfast date…or…casual hangout, or…whatever all of this time together could be called.

“Oh, uh, sure,” he said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Perhaps it hadn’t, or maybe he was just playing it cool for her sake. He was considerate that way, and she liked it.

She stopped walking and faced him. “I was standing at the bus stop reading a book, and there was a guy standing there with a cup of coffee. So he starts to talk to me. And at first it’s just absolutely fine—you know, just chit-chat.” She took a deep breath and continued. “But then he starts to…ask me if I want to go home with him, you know, for sex.”

Harrison shakes his head, clearly disgusted.

She continued, wanting to get through it as quickly as possible. “He starts using words like ‘fuck’ and ‘cunt’ and told me about his large cock. So I turned to walk away, and he just threw a whole cup of coffee at me.”

“What an asshole,” he said.

“But the thing is, the thing that makes it worse is that I didn’t respond to the situation correctly. You know, it’s partially my fault.”

“Why?” He said, visibly confused.

“Because if—if I’d reacted differently, maybe he wouldn’t have done that!”

“You’re not blaming yourself for what he did, are you?” He looked at her disbelievingly. When she almost nodded her head, he leaned down to meet her at eye level. “That’s fucking ridiculous! What else could you do but walk away, take him up on his offer?”

“Well, I don’t know!” She was frustrated. “I could have said something—”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, something!”

“You’re a stupid, idiotic imbecile,” he said, with an oddly fond smile.

“I know!” she said.

“No, you’re a stupid, idiotic imbecile for not trusting your instincts!” he said, his voice rising with indignation. “Your instincts told you to walk away, and you did.”

“That’s why I’m a stupid, idiotic imbecile!” she maintained.

“Noo,” he said, drawing out the word. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and gestured wildly to emphasize his point. “Walking away was smart. It was the best thing you could have done. Why would anyone subject themselves to that kind of verbal abuse? Who knows what you could have said or done to make a difference?”

He started jabbing his hand into his opposite palm to underline the importance of his phrase. “The point is that you walked away, and it was for a good reason, not a bad one. And you cannot feel guilty about that, right?” He bent down again, forcing her to meet his gaze.

She considered for a second.

“Right?” he asked again.

She tilted her head to the side with a sigh. “Right,” she agreed at last.

“Good,” he said, calming down with the single word. His head was still rather close to hers.

“Right,” she said again, just to fill the small space between them.

“Good,” he said in return.

They shared a smile.

“So what was your confession?” she asked, eager to change the subject again.

“Oh,” he said, visibly composing himself. “My confession. Well, I’m doing all of this for a reason—the clothes, the lunch, the day.”

“I knew it,” she said, pointing her finger at his chest. “And…?” she prompted, her anticipation growing.

He turned and resumed their walk once more. “Someone wants you to have a great day.”

That was not what she had expected. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Someone wants you to have a great day, and that’s that,” he said with a note of finality.

“Who?”

“I’m not telling,” he shook his head.

“Why not?” she said, a hint of a whine in her voice.

“Well, I will tell you, but—not until you’re ready to go home.”

“Well, what if I want to go home now?” she said.

He stopped and glanced at her. “Do you?”

“No,” she said, taking a few steps. “I’m enjoying my time with you.”

“Good, I’m very much enjoying my time with you, too.”

“Even though you’re doing this for someone else?” she asked.

“It’s not as simple as that, but yes. I am enjoying myself.”

She was struck by a sudden thought. “Are you getting paid to do this?”

“No,” he said, and he appeared completely genuine.

“But it’s someone I know?”

“Sort of, yes.” he said, only causing her curiosity to grow.

She asked him again, wondering why someone she sort of knew wanted her to have a good day. And again, he only said that he would tell her but only if she _really_ wanted to know now or just a little later.

“What else are we gonna do?” Caitlin asked him, leaning up on her toes with eager anticipation.

“Lots of things,” he said. “Anything.”

There was something about the way he said it, with his voice rising in pitch and the gesture of his hands. It evoked something in her that she couldn’t put her finger on…

He interpreted her hesitation for uncertainty, and he assured her again that he would tell her, but only if she really, really wanted to know. Otherwise, she would have to wait.

She sighed. “I’ll wait,” she said. “For a minute there I thought you looked familiar.”

“Do I?” he said, his voice suddenly small.

“Kind of,” she said. “Do we know each other?”

“Besides from the sandwich shop?”

“Yeah,” she said, studying him more intently.

He paused, appearing to consider his answer very carefully, and then he said, “I thought we were gonna wait until I told you everything!”

“Oh, okay, okay, we’re gonna wait!” she said with a dramatic twirl, leading them to a different part of the park they had stumbled upon.


	6. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin has an unusual request. The coffee tosser makes an unwelcome appearance, and Caitlin finally decides she wants to know the truth.

Harrison was elated. She had actually agreed to continue their day together. He had half expected her to bow out and just ask for the truth outright. But he was thankful they had more time before that. She was also proving to be a bit more unpredictable than he imagined.

“Since I’ve been deciding what we’ve done thus far today, why don’t you decide what we do next?” Harrison asked, stretching his legs out in front of them on the bench they both occupied. “Money’s no object. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

He had his arm resting on the back of the bench, and she did the same beside him. Their hands dangled down, mere inches away.

“Well, that’s opened a can of worms,” she said with a smirk.

“Within reason,” he corrected.

“So we can’t fly to the Caribbean?”

“If that’s what you want?” he said, feeling his wallet groaning already. But he would do it for her if she asked.

“You’re joking!”

“No,” he assured her. “Is that what you want?” There was still a hint of anxiety in his voice.

“I don’t know,” she said excitedly. “Well, I do have an idea but it’s a little bit silly.”

Of course she would downplay what she wanted. “Try me,” he said.

She told him about her friend, Cisco, who had run into some money troubles recently. He was a musician and had had to trade his saxophone to make ends meet. She saw a saxophone just like his in the window of a pawnshop downtown and had the idea but not the means.

“I could pay you back bit by bit. It’s not very expensive, but it’s just more than I can afford,” she said. At his silence, she started to backpedal. “Oh, God, I’m sorry—that's’ a really terrible idea. I’m so sorry.”

He sat there, just marveling at this woman, and there she was thinking he had already turned the idea down. She continued to express just how stupid the idea was, and he decided to wait until she was done.

“I didn’t mean to make you out to this sort of financier of other people’s problems. I’m sorry, forget I ever said it. You’ve done enough to day. Thank you. You’ve done enough. Please forget it.”

He watched her stare down at the pavement with an anguished expression on her features.

He waited and then said, “Is that what you want? You could do _anything_ …and that’s what you’d choose?”

She turned to him, her brow furrowed. She finally opened her mouth and said, “Yes.”

Incredible. Still putting other people before herself.

Well, if that’s what she wanted.

Thirty minutes later, they found themselves standing on the street with saxophone in hand. He was sitting on the upright saxophone case while she called Cisco to let him know they were outside his apartment.

Cisco buzzed them in, and just before they entered, she stopped him and said, “He’s a bit…odd. Just wanted to let you know.”

Harrison held up his hands in surrender. “After what I put you through with Nora, I deserve whatever I get.”

She rolled her eyes and knocked on the door to apartment 302.

A young man opened the door, and he was wearing perhaps the loudest outfit Harrison had ever seen. He was wearing a backwards tam, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Harrison wasn’t much of a musician, but Cisco looked every bit the part of a down-on-his-luck saxophone player.

He ushered them both into a cramped, dingy apartment. There were music posters on nearly every surface of the walls, and he had shelves lined with what looked like small, wind-up toys. There were also old cameras and various dusty collections of CDs, but no stereo in sight.

Cisco was talking at a rapid pace, and it took Harrison a moment to realize he was being addressed.

“Harrison. Can I call you Harry? I’m gonna call you Harry.” He then dove into a discussion with Caitlin on an entirely new subject before Harrison could respond.

“Oh, Cait, I found the toy I was looking for. Isn’t it neat?” he held his palm open to reveal a wind-up toy bee. “Here,” he said to Harrison, “hold it.”

Baffled, he took it and started to activate the function of the toy, but Cisco immediately grabbed it back.

“No, don’t wind it. It hurts the mechanism.” He turned and returned it to pride of place in the center of his shelf, still talking at his break-neck speed. “You know, I never thought I would end up this way, living in an apartment filled with useless toys. It’s a hobby, you know. It’s silly, I know—or so says my family.”

Caitlin and Harrison stared for a moment, as Cisco appeared to lose himself in his thoughts.

“You know, you have a lot of great things here,” Harrison interjected.

Caitlin shot him a grateful look as Cisco snapped out of his reverie.

“It’s just bizarre, I think,” he said with a sigh and seated himself across from the pair. “So, you said on the phone…”

“That I have a surprise for you,” Caitlin finished.

“What, did you win the lottery?” he asked, staring pointedly at her new clothes and hairstyle.

“No,” she said, standing up and placing the case in his lap.

Cisco gave her an apprehensive look. “This isn’t a giant wind-up toy, is it?”

Caitlin snorted. “Open it.”

“Nothing’s gonna jump out at me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just open it!”

Cisco kept a wary eye on her and lifted the latches of the case. His face fell the moment his eyes fell on the contents of the box.

“Wow,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Wow,” he said again. “Is this for me?”

Caitlin nodded. Harrison stared between the two of them, his eyes lingering on Caitlin as her eyes threatened to mist over with tears.

“Wow, man,” Cisco said a third time. “Wow. It’s an alto?”

“Of course,” Caitlin said.

“Is this for me?” he asked again, his face simply crestfallen.

“Yes, it’s all yours.”

“Wow. I keep saying ‘wow,’” and a soft smile pulled at his lips, the first Harrison had seen since they entered.

His eyes were also filling with tears as he gently pulled the instrument from its case and held it tenderly in his hands.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s a gift,” she said.

“Oh, no. That won’t do. I’ll need to pay you back.”

“No, it’s my gift to you!” Caitlin insisted.

“This is…wow,” he repeated.

“It wasn’t only me,” she said, turning and meeting Harrison’s gaze.

“What do you mean?” Cisco said.

Caitlin shook her head, likely knowing Cisco might feel worse knowing a stranger had bought it for him.

She broke eye contact with the man beside her to address her friend. “Nothing. It was just fate that we found it.”

He pulled a mouthpiece from a nearby drawer and attached it to the new sax.

“Let’s see how it sounds, shall we?” Cisco put the instrument up to his lips and let out an ear-piercing screech. “I’m pretty good, you know,” he said to Harrison, making the same sound but impossibly somehow, louder.

“Oh, yeah, uh—sounds good,” Harrison said, realizing he might know less about music than he thought.

Cisco did this one more time before shaking his head. “I’m just messing with you. It was supposed to be a joke,” he said.

Caitlin laughed and poked Harrison in the side. He felt his nerves jangle back into place again, and suddenly Caitlin was getting up at Cisco’s request and sitting at the piano along the opposite wall.

“You play piano?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said, matter-of-fact. “We play together. Sometimes she does gigs with friends of mine. She’s pretty good. You’ve never heard her play?” He frowned at Harrison.

“No,” Harrison freely admitted, intrigued to see where this would go.

“I just work at the coffee shop to pay a few extra bills,” she responded, her back still to him. “Cisco and I are professional, struggling musicians.”

“What do you want to play?” Cisco asked.

Without preamble, she dove into a piece. It had a lovely, haunting melody. Cisco jumped right in, embellishing the melody with licks on the saxophone.

_Hail to the New Year_

Oh, wow. Harrison realized she was singing.

_The future and forgotten king_

_Every girl and boy,_

_Promises a joy._

_Hail to the New Year_

_This greedy girl wants everything_

_She returns you love_

_So you don’t wanna see her anymore…_

Harrison was entranced. She had a lovely, silky voice that took his imagination to a dark nightclub with a spotlight on the two musicians. He was merely a spectator, and he adored every second of it. He watched her sway along with the music, her long fingers pressing the keys with ease, while Cisco accompanied with the ease of a highly trained musician.

At the closing bars of the song, he found he had to physically close his mouth from where it had fallen open. He had no idea she was so talented.

They played a few more songs, and he clapped at the end of each one. Finally, tired and drained, Caitlin told Cisco they had to go but she would come to visit soon.

“Harry, too?” He turned to Harrison, who looked at Caitlin.

She nodded. “Sure, Cisco.”

Harrison felt his heart leap at that one little nod of her head.

As they made their way down the stairs, he felt he couldn’t contain his praise any longer.

“You played so well. I mean, really, really well.”

“Thanks,” she said distractedly, continuing with: “and look, about the sax, I’ll pay you back bit by bit, as soon as I get my next paycheck.”

“Yeah,” Harrison was lost for a moment, his mind replaying the song from earlier. “Wait, no,” he said, his ears finally catching up with what she had said. “I don’t want you to have to pay it back. I mean, it was a gift. It was something I wanted to do for you. Today is your day.”

She turned to him with a grin, but she was equal parts exasperated. “Why is it suddenly my day? What is going on?”

He had to hedge around this one. He wasn’t ready.

“Because of the whole…coffee situation.”

“Why isn’t it your day? I mean, you’re the one who got fired yesterday.”

“Right,” his heart sank. “Well…I have another one of my confessions.”

She gave him a look of deep skepticism. “What, another confession? What am I, a priest?”

He supposed he better come right out and say it. “I wasn’t fired.”

“Oh,” she said, confused.

“Yeah, when we went for tea this morning, I phoned in sick while you were in the toilet.”

She didn’t slap him, so at least she wasn’t angry enough for all of that, but she still stared at him with consternation.

“Okay, so is this all…part of the plan? Part of this ‘someone wants you to have a great day’ plan?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Right.” She sighed. “So who is it?”

The time had come. But they weren’t doing this without alcohol. “Why don’t we do this over a drink, something stronger than coffee?”

“God, it’s gonna be this shocking?”

“Maybe,” he said, leading the way down the sidewalk to a nearby pub he liked.

She insisted that this time it was _her_ treat and that she was finally going to pay for something, even if it was only a drink.

He walked her to the door, but as they passed the windows of the place, she stopped dead in her tracks and walked back the other way.

“Oh, my god,” she said.

“What?” he followed behind her.

“Oh, my god,” she said again.

“What happened?”

“Oh, my God!”

“What is it?” He was getting worried now.

She stuttered slightly. “The-the coffee thrower from this morning. He’s in there!”

“What? Which one is he?” He was raring for a fight. Or a verbal repartee, whichever happened first.

“No, I don’t want to see him. We can’t stay here.”

“Just tell me which—”

“No, let’s just go!” she insisted. “I don’t want to see him, ever again.”

“Caitlin,” he put an arm on her shoulder. “You don’t have to see him. Only I do. Alright?” He walked away, gazed in the window, and strolled back to her. “Which one is he?”

“He’s got a purple tie and sort of dark hair. He’s standing at the bar.”

He began walking away.

“Harrison,” she called out, and he walked back to her. “Hurry up,” she said.

He nodded and took off again, psyching himself up for what he would say or do to the asshole when he saw him. It had to be more powerful than just mere chit-chat.

\--

Caitlin bit each of her nails as she waited anxiously outside the bar. She stared through the window and watched Harrison pause before disappearing downstairs. She was of two minds—she wanted to be down there to witness what would happen. But the other part of her, the rational part that had told her to walk away this morning, told her to stay put.

So she listened to her instincts again, this time accepting that they might be right, for once.

Several minutes passed. She pulled out her phone and decided to fill Iris in on the latest details.

_He bought Cisco a new saxophone?_ Iris responded to her text.

_Not new,_ Caitlin corrected. _But…yeah._

_Who does that? I mean, who actually does that for someone just because they asked??_ Iris followed her message with a handful of shock-faced emojis.

She then told her where Harrison had disappeared to.

_Oh my fucking God, I hope he punches the bastard in the face. Not Harrison—the coffee tosser. You know what I mean! Cause ‘Harry’ sounds like a nice guy. :)_

Caitlin smiled down at this latest text, and then, growing anxious, stepped into the bar to see if she could catch sight of him.

At that moment, Harrison rounded the bar with an oddly serious expression on his face.

“Where did you go?” she asked, stepping close enough so the knuckles of her clasped hands brushed against the front of his coat.

“Downstairs. We kind of had a little chat.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I just told his friends who were with him what he did this morning.”

“You’re joking, you spoke to him?” She was still in disbelief.

“Yeah, in a roundabout sort of way.”

He said he simply told the gathered friends what the man had done and the kind of company they kept. She asked what his reaction was, and Harrison said he was “shocked. Yeah, definitely shocked.”

“And you’re not gonna believe this,” he continued. “He’s an attorney for abused women.”

“For fuck’s sake,” was all she could muster in response.

Harrison seemed suddenly to regret what he had done, assuming she was upset about it. He even offered to go back downstairs and punch the guy.

She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Not at all. Look, humiliation is better than violence. It lasts longer.” She fixed him with her gaze. “It sounds like you handled it really well. Thank you.”

He smiled.

Caitlin felt herself leaning closer and speaking into his ear to be heard over the music of the bar.

“Now, is it possible for you to please tell me who the person who wants me to have a great day is? I’m going crazy here.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw he was studying her face intently, and there was that odd expression of restraint again.

“Sure,” he said, meeting her gaze as she stepped back. “Let’s—let’s go somewhere quieter.” He put a hand on her arm and led them out the door. He didn't remove his hand as they walked, and she found she didn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA (forgot to add this to the previous chapter) - follow your instincts. If someone is making you uncomfortable, you get the hell out of dodge and don't look back. Verbal sexual assault and physical assault is sadly a reality for men and women today, and I hope that you never have to experience something like what Caitlin went through. 
> 
> Please know I am fully in support of talking about your experiences. Should you feel the need to share, I will be an open ear (and reader) to whatever you have to say.
> 
> Oh, and the song referenced is "New Year" by Nerina Pallot. I definitely do not own it.
> 
> Stay tuned! The next chapter might be the last.
> 
> <3 <3


	7. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin finally learns the truth. She's not sure she's happier knowing.

He didn't say much as they made their way back down the street to an unfamiliar gastro-pub. If she hazarded a guess, she’d say he seemed nervous.

Once inside, he found a seat and she again insisted on buying his drink. When she got back to the table with beers in hand, there was a small, square slip of paper on the surface. Her anticipation only mounted as she met his gaze across the table.

“So…” she said, biting her lip with barely concealed excitement.

“So, do you recognize the kid in the photograph?” He slid the paper towards her and told her to pick it up.

She took it and frowned at the photo. It was a small boy who had a strong bowl cut above striking blue eyes, set in a chubby face.

“Cause I have another one of my confessions.” He swallowed hard as she continued to stare at a face that was growing more and more familiar with each passing second. “It’s how I know your favorite color is aqua blue and that you like grilled cheese sandwiches. It’s from your childhood.

He paused for a moment and continued. “I also know how that scar got on your forehead. I do know how you received it.” He indicated the photo with a nod of his head. “He gave it to you, didn’t he? The boy in the photo.”

How could she forget the boy’s face? It had been burned in her memory through years of torment.

She finally found her voice, her eyes still glued to the picture. “He was part of the group of kids at school that bullied me.” Caitlin met his gaze. “He pushed me hard against a tree once, and that’s why I have the scar.”

“Do you remember his name?”

She shook her head. “What has he got to do with today?”

“Well, apparently,” Harrison’s gaze dropped to the table. “He found out where you worked and…he felt guilty about how he treated you all those years ago. And so he wanted you to have a great day, which he provided. Didn’t matter which day, could be any day.”

He paused, meeting her eyes across the table once more. “If anybody deserves it, you do.”

“So why didn’t he do it himself?”

“Because if he told you the truth or if you recognized him, he was afraid you might not be so…agreeable.”

Her mind whirled with this news. Perhaps this childhood bully had picked a day that he knew would be lousy—or he had somehow planned for it to be terrible in the first place.

“Did he arrange for that man to throw coffee on me this morning?”

“No,” Harrison said. His expression was entirely sober. He returned her attention to the picture. “Do you remember his name?”

Caitlin stared at the photo again. She knew that face, and now she remembered his name.

The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“Is it Harry?”

“Harrison Wells,” he said.

A sick lump formed in her throat. She rasped out the question, “What’s your full name?”

He paused. “Harrison Wells.” He swallowed again. “’Heavy Harry,’ ‘Wells the Whale,’ ‘Smelly Welly.’ Those were my names in school.”

Caitlin could only stare at the photo. Her mind put the two faces side by side, and she realized now why she had felt this strange familiarity. And she remembered his older sister Nora, the terror of the playground any time she was at school.

“I don’t get this,” she said at last.

He had an anxious smile frozen on his lips. “Get what?”

“I don't understand—is this supposed to be some sort of an apology?”

“Yes,” he said, as if the idea should have occurred to her already.

She was shaking. A boiling rage was billowing up in her stomach, one she hadn’t felt since she was a schoolgirl.

“And so I’m just supposed to feel…charmed by what’s happened today? I’m supposed to forget what happened to me every day of my life when I was in school? The torment? The abuse? The _scar_ you gave me?” She took a short breath, but it did nothing to calm her. “I’m supposed to forget how you and your friends treated my brother? I’m supposed to just put on a warm smile and walk over there and give you a _hug_?”

He was silent, his eyes wide and stunned. But she had a few more things to say.

“I’m just supposed to forget everything that happened because you feel guilty 15 years later? You have a strange way of trying to amend the past.”

“I wanted to apologize. It was important to me.”

And now a deeper injury fell hard on her heart and mind. “That’s all?” she said. “You just wanted to apologize? That’s all today was, an apology?”

He was speechless now. She was shaking in earnest. She clamped her hands together on top of the table, and she considered him now with a new rage burning in her chest. Years of torment, verbal and physical abuse—they all crashed on her again. On today of all days.

“I’ve often wondered what would happen if I confronted you and your friends. I’ve often wondered what I’d do to you if given the opportunity.”

He shook his head, his eyes rimming with sudden tears. “Go ahead,” he said. “Do it.”

She gave him a twisted smile. “Oh, I’ve destroyed you in my head, time and time again. I’ve punched you, I’ve kicked you, I’ve…” she stopped herself there, unable to continue with that dark train of thought. “But do you know what? I’ve always reached the same conclusion. Do you know what that conclusion is?”

He shook his head, still staring at her with a mixture of horror and shame. The hard feelings he was experiencing weren’t enough.

She bit the side of her lip, wanting to scream but hearing her voice only coming out as a hushed whisper. “ _Fuck you_ for making a fool of me one last time.”

Caitlin stared at him. He could no longer meet her gaze.

“Don’t you see?” Tears were blurring her vision but she blinked them away. “You’ve turned one of the best days of my life into one of the worst.”

She gave him one last chance to speak, but he was silent, meeting her eyes fleetingly.

“You should have kept your little secret to yourself.” She half rose from her chair, her face crumbling as the tears threatened to fall. “I can’t…” her voice failed her.

The storm of emotions started to boil over, and she rose to her feet and left him behind with the unfinished statement hanging in the air.

“I left him there—alone,” she said, crying into the phone as soon as she got home. Iris hummed on the other end, always the sympathetic listener. “It was such a great day, you know?” she sniffled.

“I know, sweetie,” Iris said.

“I just…” Caitlin faltered, feeling foolish for even saying it. “I sort of thought it would end with a kiss, you know?”

“Like in the movies?” Iris said. She couldn’t hide the incredulous tone, even from the other end of a phone conversation.

“Yes!” Caitlin said, fresh sobs mingling with laughter.

“Oh, my god, Caitlin. I love you. You are a sap, but I love you.”

“I just feel so pathetic! Humiliated, you know? And I feel angry and sad, and…I really kind of want to talk to him, but I don’t, you know?”

“I know, honey,” Iris repeated.

“I just feel so conflicted.” Caitlin said, and she burst into fresh tears.

Iris was with her through all of it. When she had calmed down to be able to speak again, Iris asked if she would be okay for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll just—I’ll go to bed early tonight and try to forget about him tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Iris said, and even without seeing her friend’s face, Caitlin knew she was skeptical.

There was no way Caitlin would be forgetting this day any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a shorter chapter, but it just means there will be more to come!! 
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? 
> 
> <3


	8. Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison won't let it go without one more chance to explain himself.

Harrison clenched his fists. He looked and felt terrible, but he didn’t really care. He was determined to set things right—which is what he thought he was doing by taking Caitlin out for a day, but apparently that was the _wrong_ thing to do.

He had lost his nerve last night and didn’t get to say any of the speeches he’d planned. Well, she would hear him out, and that would be that.

He walked into the coffee shop, and the bell on top of the door signaled his arrival. It was empty except for Caitlin and the boss’s young daughter, Kalika.

“Hi,” he said, speaking directly to Caitlin.

She said nothing but turned and stalked over to the radio, which she turned up.

“Hi,” said the young girl, smiling around an apparent wound on her upper lip.

“Hi,” he greeted her in return before turning his eyes back to Caitlin’s profile in the corner. “Can we talk?”

She turned off the radio and stood with her back to him, her arms folded.

“I think he wants some food,” Kalika said in a stage whisper to Caitlin.

“I don’t care,” she said, refusing to turn all the way around and look at him.

“Do you want some food?” the young girl asked Harrison.

He shook his head and turned his gaze to Caitlin’s back once more.

The young girl shrugged her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.

“Papa, there’s a man outside staring at Caitlin, and he says he doesn’t want any food.”

Ray rushed to Caitlin’s side and asked if she was alright, to which she responded with a half shrug.

Soon, Ray was behind he counter, fixing Harrison with a courteous gaze.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

“Uh, not really,” he said, wanting to be polite but feeling as though he was about to burst with frustration and impatience.

Well, if she wasn’t going to talk to him, he would just have to give his speech to Ray and Kalika instead. He was grateful the coffee shop was empty.

He took a deep breath and dove in headfirst. “Yesterday, Caitlin and I spent the day together, and now she hates me.”

Ray glanced at Caitlin’s statue-like figure in the corner. “Why?”

“Because she found out I used to be the bully who made her life miserable when she was at school.”

Ray gave him a wry smile. “That’s not good, is it?”

He raised his voice, wanting to ensure his point came across to the apparently inattentive Caitlin.

“And I think she thinks what I did yesterday was completely out of order and totally ingenuous.”

Ray was a nice boss, and he seemed to care a great deal for his employee. He fixed Harrison with a frown and asked, “What did you do to Caitlin?”

“We had a great day,” Harrison said, glancing several times at Caitlin’s back. “At least, I did,” he added under his breath.

“Okay, uh…I’m a little confused,” Ray said.

Bless him. Harrison would just have to lay it all out, he supposed.

“Well, I came here to apologize. Not for what I did yesterday or many years ago, although of course I’m very, very sorry for that…but apologize for the fact that I wasn’t upfront and honest with her yesterday about who I was.” He paused for a breath. “And I wanted to add that I _wasn’t_ trying to make a fool out of her and was just trying to make a friend. And that she should appreciate that I was full of—”

He was rapidly losing his train of thought and scrambled for more of his planned speech. “And that she should respect where…and that I respect her, and that I care very much for her feelings, and that she should try and appreciate where I was coming from.”

Ray just blinked at him. “Okay, um…” He turned and called out to Caitlin, “Did you get all that? I don’t think I can repeat it all.”

Caitlin remained unmoved, leaning against the fridge in the corner with her eyes fixed on the kitchen door.

Harrison sighed, his momentum rapidly deflating. “I’ll leave now.”

But he was struck with a sudden thought. “Just let her know that I’ll be back tomorrow…and the day after that, and the day after that, until she decides to talk to me again.”

Ray turned to Caitlin, amusement plucking at the side of his mouth. “He’s gonna keep coming back, and coming back, until…”

“I heard,” she interrupted, turning slightly to look at Harrison from the corner of her eye. “And he can keep coming back, but I’m not gonna talk to him.”

Ray turned back to Harrison, who just raised his voice and said, “She’ll have to speak to me eventually because she’ll see I’m being heartfelt.”

“Heartfelt?” she said with asperity. “Playing mind games with someone is heartfelt?” She only half turned, still apparently incapable of looking at him.

He would take what he could get. He turned and addressed her directly.

“I wasn’t playing mind games, I was trying to be generous!”

“Generous is nice…honest is better.”

“I’m being honest!”

“No,” she said, grunting in frustration. “Honest is telling someone…” she paused. “I thought you were being nice to me because you liked me.”

“I _do_ like you,” he said, frowning. How could she not know that?

“No, I mean— _like_ like me. Like, more than friends.”

“Oh,” he said, his outrage deflating in an instant. How could she not know that, either?

“And now…it’s too difficult to be around that person because I feel humiliated and…let down.”

He decided to try a different tack. “Maybe you’re not giving that someone—me—a chance. Maybe someone—you—is being too sensitive.”

“Well, what do you expect?” She kept her eyes trained firmly on the ovens in front of her now. “You think that buying me an expensive lunch and expensive clothes and getting the expensive haircut and buying Cisco’s saxophone is just gonna undo years of bullying? Is that what you expect?” She turned her head towards him, but only in profile.

He approached, taking this as a cue that she was at least willing to glance in his general direction.

“I expect you to be mature,” he said. She met his gaze, and he almost lost his nerve—but he took a breath and kept going. “I expect you not to judge me the way I judged you when you were just a girl at school with fuzzy hair and huge glasses.”

“Don’t even start, fatso!”

“I’m not, four-eyes. I’m saying you walked out on me yesterday before I had a chance to finish what I had to say.”

“I was upset!”

“I know that,” he said, his tone softening. “Because all I wanted to say yesterday was…that I’ve always liked you, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you bullied me?”

He glanced away and then back at her with a blank expression. “Yes.”

“How chivalrous.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, suppressing a grin.

She walked forward and stopped in front of him. “You’re welcome,” she said back to him, in a snotty, whiny tone.

“I made friends with all the wrong people—” he started, but she mimicked this, too, saying it back to him like a kid on the playground.

“I was influenced easily—” he tried again, but she just mocked him, a smile pulling at her lips.

“I was fat—” he said as a last resort, but she teased him mercilessly, mimicking his stance and saying it back to him.

So he decided he would just stare at her and say nothing if she was going to be childish.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

Well, he hadn’t expected that response.

“I was gonna do that,” he lied.

“No you weren’t,” she said, quickly calling his bluff. “Now, order a sandwich or get out. I have work to do.”

Ray told her she could take an early lunch if she needed to, and Harrison suddenly realized her boss and the boss’s daughter were still there watching all of this unfold.

“No, he’ll just have to wait,” Caitlin said, giving him a wink.

Oh, he would wait. He’d wait 15 more years if he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through this with me! I knocked it out pretty quickly, but I just caught a wild hare and ran with it.
> 
> Stay tuned - there MAY be a bonus chapter in store for you. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! <3


	9. At Long Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin meets Harrison at the park after work. She has unfinished business with him.

Turns out, Harrison only had to wait till the end of Caitlin’s shift.

She texted him (thank God he’d remembered to give her his number) and they decided to meet in the park where they had walked after meeting his sister Nora. And wasn’t _that_ the worst idea he’d had all day.

“Hi,” a familiar voice said behind him, and he turned to find Caitlin staring fixedly at him.

“Hi,” he said, feeling oddly ill at ease, now that the truth was out in the open.

He thought it’d be free and easy, and they’d run into each other’s arms, and—well, no use fantasizing now. There would be time for that later.

He noticed she had changed out of her work clothes and into the pink sweater he’d bought for her. The color definitely suited her.

“Oh,” he remembered something. “I went back to the salon and got this for you.” He lifted the bag in his hand and passed it to her.

She gave him an exasperated look. “I told you I didn’t need those stinky old work clothes back!”

He shrugged. “I know. I just wanted to do it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a fond expression on her face.

Caitlin was quiet for a moment, swinging the bag at her side. “I was thinking,” she said, and then paused.

“Yeah?” he turned and watched her link their arms together. He smiled, pressing her arm against his torso.

“Well, was it in your plan the other day to introduce me to your sister?”

Harrison sighed. “Initially, no. And then I realized once I got you to try on clothes and had bought you the new outfit—well I sort of _had_ to invite you to meet her. And you know what she’s like. I couldn’t have done that alone.”

“Oh no,” she agreed, her tone matter-of-fact. “She would have eaten you alive.”

He laughed at her outright nature. It seemed like she spoke the blunt, honest truth without realizing it sometimes.

She apologized, but he shook his head, ensuring her it was entirely true.

She hummed, frowning slightly. “In the context of what I learned about you, and how she treated you…it makes sense you turned into a bully.”

His steps faltered. He was still not used to being called that term. But it was the painful truth.

“I mean,” she corrected, “isn’t it said somewhere that people who are bullied turn into one themselves?”

He nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” But then he turned to face her. “But you didn’t end up bullying anyone.”

She bit her lip but said nothing.

“So your logic doesn’t hold up,” he said, putting a finger under her chin. “Unless you’re just a delightful exception to the rule.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to downplay the compliment. He was having none of that. Besides, she’d already stolen the first kiss.

\--

Caitlin’s heart leapt into her throat. He was staring down at her, and she suddenly wished she could see his eyes behind his glasses.

She had a sudden notion and reached up to pull them off of his face. He let his hand drop from her chin. Caitlin had effectively broken the moment.

“I’m—uh—rather blind without those.”

She enjoyed the feeling of his unhindered gaze on her face—even if he was looking at her with a slightly bleary-eyed expression.

She held the glasses up to her face. “Good God, I should be calling _you_ four-eyes.”

“I deserve every bit of teasing,” he said, squinting at her.

Caitlin tucked her hands behind her back, hiding the glasses from his sight. “Let’s make one thing clear, Harry,” she said, testing out the nickname and deciding she liked it almost as much as she liked him. “The past is the past.”

He fixed his clear, blue gaze on her again. “Alright, then,” he said.

Apparently he could see well enough, because he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her lips. She readjusted and put her arms around his neck, melting into his embrace like something out of a movie.

She was kissing Harrison Wells—the one and only “Heavy Harry”—and she was enjoying it immensely.

Suddenly, he had snatched the glasses from her limp grasp and was taking off in the other direction.

“Hey!” she cried out, equal parts annoyed their make-out session had come to an abrupt end and that he had absconded once more with his glasses.

“Try and catch me, fuzz head!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Wells the Whale is not going to outrun me!”

And they were off, running through the park like a couple of schoolchildren. It felt like they were making up for lost time, and they loved it.

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter just for you (and me - I just adore these two characters). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!
> 
> <3


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